MoshtarakYou came in combat shortsMoshtarak5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Speaking poetry to me
in pidgin Pashto.
I'm sure you've blown skulls
wide open with half formed words
and you frightened me
with your fearless fire.
You chased away the trouble that had
settled heavy over my shoulders and down into
every hair and pore and breath like desert dust.
You were different.
Your eyes shone with the promise
of golden gates
and red bridges to white sheets
across blue gaps and hotels and museums and forests full of God
and everything seemed possible.
I did not think you would leave me.
And it returns from the mountains, the caves,
Wherever it comes from. Whatever you call it.
Trouble. Taliban. Heartbreak. In pidgin Pashto
or any language.
I wondered where you'd gone
but then I realised -
You think you're home,
But both our homes
are static lines floating
through space and we can't
make it home without finishing
what was started, I know
a part of your head is still here, sp
Innocence.She came to me on her own accord.Innocence.6 years ago in Fan Fiction More Like This
Her soft, long and dark hair billowed behind her back, seemingly to contain vegastial wings of an angel. It blended well with her deep, almond buds of eyes that gleamed of morning dusk and sunlight, potraying a thousand and one emotions in one petite femme. She was fuelled with such energetic gestures, her movements were as gentle as a dove's feather against the breeze, her hands clasped over her heart.
The torrents of innocence radiated off her in light, gentle sparks; shooting outwards like an untamed fountain waiting for new surprises.
My crafted hands forbid me to touch her skin despite the impulse. I wanted to experience and appreciate the art that dared bestow before me, for my Creator had never made a work that spoke much of life and who walked the world so freely - with such compassion and confidence, where the obstacles did not hinder her deepest wishes, whereas only I was to do so in the bleakest of shadows.
However, when she had cried out in
tragic tale of a broken world"Once Upon a Time... The Tragic Tale of a Broken World"tragic tale of a broken world11 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
once, i awoke with the sun
and through my open window,
cool winds carressed my face,
breezes whispering their secrets
and i heard their words.
once, i climbed the tallest mountain
And laid down on its peak
pressing my ear to its wise stone form
i listened to its story:
Once, a little boy screamed
Signing papers in permanent ink
Showering him with gifts,
Trying to outdo one another.
Fighting over his attention,
But never showing love.
Leaving a $20 bill with a note-
"I'll be home late, don't wait up."
Telling lies about each other
In the name of custody.
So, Never having felt so lonely,
He puts a pistol to his head
And silently prepares to pull the trigger.
"All I ever wanted...
For you to love me, and love each other.
That's all I ever asked for."
And, through the mountain,
I heard him cry a little.
Once, a lonely girlfriend screamed.
Her welfare boyfriend,
So in love
Only wanting the best for her
Knowing she dese
Moonlit EyesAs the moonMoonlit Eyes9 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
floats through the sky,
I see her light
reflected in your eyes
Next to stars
and fiery sights
in eyes so bright
Can't look away
but why would I want to?
as you gaze into mine
my heart belongs to you
Wolf Moon--The Moon--Wolf Moon9 years ago in Haiku & Eastern More Like This
Shining brightly high
Floating on a sea of clouds
A Ghostly Galleon
Fleet and free of foot,
Gaurdian of my Spirit
Heart friend, kindred soul
Twisting through the trees,
Joyous calls to our mother,
she smiles upon us
DirtyDirty9 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
~ Dirty ~
The word is rude.
"It is not polite to speak of it.
Don't ask me again, child!"
What is it?
I don't understand.
I heard it at school.
Every day I hear it.
The older kids say it.
I know they're being crude;
they have a sharp edge in their voice,
and afterwards they laugh.
When my friend said it to me,
I still didn't know its meaning,
and her entire statement made no sense.
I didn't want her to think I was stupid,
so I simply said:
Then she kissed me.
And I suddenly understood why
the word was forbidden.
I shoved at her chest,
pushing her away from me.
It was wrong.
I ran from the girls toilets
into the playground,
hearing her words repeated in my head:
"I wonder what it's like to be a lesbian."
And I wondered.
I wondered why I wanted to
kiss her back.
When I got home from school,
I washed my hands because
my mother told me to.
I made the water too hot.
and my eyes watered from the pain.
But I kept my hands under the scorchi
ALZHEIMER WARDALZHEIMER WARD10 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
"She's a character!"
- hoiking her nightie, peeing in the street:
kinfolk fail to laugh.
ON THE WARD
Hobble, hop: one shoe shy,
he seeks. Hand held she navigates
on gnarled naked feet.
"How's your poor thumb?"
She closely scans her ring finger
And declares it fine.
Remote control flung
Because the programme wouldn't change:
Nobody told the fish.
"See me again again again,"
a litany of remembered visits,
from a sister long dead.
"Why don't you roger me?"
she cackles: a passing nurse smirks
"Hey there! join the queue!"
HIT ME RUNNINGDon't sell me funeral plotsHIT ME RUNNING11 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
on late night television
if the end is already in sight
am I supposed to pull the sheets up to my neck,
count to zero,
smile, and cease?
keep your pills, in all their pretty colors:
celebrex, propecia, allegra, lipitor, zanex, viagra
keep them for scrabble
keep your rogaine, your facelifts
keep your death insurance
keep your graveyard reservations
hit me running.
let me go down swinging
make it a sport:
give me a ten-minute head start
and an obstacle course.
place a beautiful girl on the far side of a mine field
and whisper, "she wants to kiss you"
target me on my feet
dodging doomsday's in slow-mo bullet time
let me duel the grim reaper in a poetry slam
but let me lay where i fall
let the buzzards and coyotes
pick apart my bones
don't stuff me and sew me up
waste my estate on alcohol for my wake
instead of wood for a coffin,
build me a funeral pyre
and set me ablaze like a pagan-warrior-king
Sgt. DivineSgt. Divine11 years ago in Philosophy & Perspectives More Like This
A few of the men say this used to be a church, but it's hard to tell anything in this storm. We are pinned under a black and violent sky that has held us inside this crumbling room since we arrived yesterday morning. The water slides along the cracked ceiling and bombards us from different spots.
Captain tells us to keep our weapons dry, but he knows it's impossible. The floor clutches our boots with three inches of sucking wet mud. If the wind ever dies down we'll have a better look around this old place, but for now we just listen as it batters the trees into the stone.
None of us know how long we have to wait here. Captain says we are to protect this structure so our side can launch rockets from it if the war ever begins. Barnes says there isn't going to be a war. He says neither side is willing to start it; but here we are, drenched and freezing, just in case.
In the brief moments when the wind and rain pause we can hear the water trickling down through
A prom problemA prom problem5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
A prom problem
By The Shadow Demon
(Woman into centaur)
"Gemma your date is here" Gemma's calls out as Gemma stood in front of her full length mirror smiling on the mirrors reflection. At eighteen years old with long blonde hair and green eyes, Gemma spun around once in her strapless white dress to see it spin Gemma couldn't seem to remove her smile on her face as she slowly took a deep breath and made her way out of her bedroom. Slowly walking down the staircase seeing her mother wiping away a tear from her face while Gemma dad kept one eyes on his daughter and another on Gemma's date, coming to the bottom of the stairs, Gemma smiles to Sam her date who looked quite nice in a tuxedo.
"Okay I want my daughter back by eleven o'clock and not one second later" Gemma said at Sam.
"Yes sir, I wouldn't dream of being late" Sam said
"Okay you two enjoy the dance!" Gemma said as Sam opens the front door and lead Gemma outside as she said her goodbyes to her family. Getting to Sam's car, Sam op
DespairingDespairing11 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
You've told me no tales, and I've told you no lies
And yet I am the one that still sits here, and cries
Marking the time as the future is stumbling
I despair once again at my life now crumbling
Sorrow runs deep and my tears will stain far
I beg for an answer to the who that we are
Shifting and aimless, with no hope I can keep
I bang against this wall, unbreakable and steep
The scars from the tears, my face they do mar
Cracks in my sanity mark a door standing ajar
Broken and bent, through these shadows I'll creep
The words that you spoke made a rift that's too deep
I can think of your smile, and a part of me sighs
But as soon as my joy is beginning, it dies
What now haunts me, your face it is wearing
For you have becme the crux of my despairing
Just a CrushI see you,Just a Crush5 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
And my eyes light up.
I hug you,
And the cold subsides.
And you might listen.
As your eyes glisten.
But you don't know,
And don't feel the same.
Your new name.
My heart flutters,
I hold my breath,
And we both look,
And we both stare.
Now we know
It will not work.
Now I know
How much it hurts.
An Abrupt ChangePenelope smiled as she sighed. Nothing, she decided, was going to spoil the perfect day. It was her anniversary after all, and she was going to make it perfect.An Abrupt Change5 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
She held the picnic basket in her hand without gripping too tightly. The arthritis in her fingers made it difficult to do much of anything with them. But, instead of damning them again, she thanked God that she had a place to keep her ring.
It was the spring of 1947. Post-war England was a bleak and desolate place, even surrounded by the beauty of the North Yorkshire Moors. The heather was in bloom, turning the hills around Whitby a brilliant shade of purple.
Penny hadn't any petrol rations left, so she decided to walk the moors one spring morning. The fog had barely lifted, and if she didn't know where she was going, she would have lost her way in its thickness.
While she didn't have her petrol rations, she did have her sweet ration. &
RepossessedRepossessed7 years ago in Science Fiction More Like This
David closed the door and slid the deadbolt, tossing his keys on the hall stand. He crossed the small parlor to the sideboard, and as he reached for a tumbler and the bottle of Jamesons, he was startled by a voice from the corner.
"I'd prefer you didn't do that," a deep, tired sound from the direction of his overstuffed armchair.
David's hand shook, gripping the glass tightly as he turned to where the man sat hidden in the shadows. "Who the bloody hell are you, and what are you doing in my flat?"
"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid you wouldn't have let me in if I'd asked." The figure produced a cigarette from a jacket pocket, and tearing the ignitor open drew deeply before exhaling slowly into the room. "I'm in collections David, and I'm afraid you're in possession of something that's no longer yours to keep."
"Jesus, are you here about the television? I'm only a few days past, and if your lot kept better shop hours, I'd have been able to pay it last week when I was in the city. Here, you can
AbuseAbuse10 years ago in Traditional Fixed Forms More Like This
Rip me open.
Bleed me dry.
Clip my wings.
Watch me cry.
Rip me open.
Bleed me dry.
Clip my wings.
Watch me die.
Cry and die are infact the same thing since you often times feel like you are dying when you cry.
How United Are We?"United we stand,How United Are We?6 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Divided we fall."
How often have Americans
heard this noble call?
Do Americans understand
What "united" truly means?
From interactions in daily life,
the meaning is lost, it seems.
For we are divided
In more ways than we can tell.
While we preach we have freedom for all,
In truth, we are freedom's hell.
We divide ourselves by profession,
gender, political stance, and race.
who our parents and deities are,
and with whom we share our living space.
We claim equality for all
And in the next breath, we discriminate
And still treat others as inferior
and with prejudice and hate.
But with all these differences,
aren't they just like me and you?
Aren't we all just people?
And aren't they Americans too?
How united are we, America?
How united can we say
we are when we have divided ourselves
In every possible way?
_winter_snow__winter_snow_11 years ago in Other More Like This
Snow on her tongue
Ice skates and long walks
On cold December nights
Skin molded to resemble snowflakes
Opaque icicles hang from her joints
Frosted lips taste like peppermints
A snow angel lying outside for years
Her frozen breath goes unnoticed
Perfection in DarknessPerfection in Darkness11 years ago in Philosophical More Like This
Cool air not cold, fog, and snow, surreal – perfect. The sky is falling, shards of heaven tumble to the earth unseen in the darkness. There is no such thing as perfect dark, at least not in any civilized area. Perfect dark isn't characterized by pitch black, but rather by the night stars being visible, crisp and clear against the marble pillars of the sky. With no noise except that which is nature's symphony: the whisper of the wind, the cresting and falling of the ocean surf, the beating of wings.
We have lost much in this age of civilization, our need to dominate, our need to see all, hear all and understand all has deadened our senses, it has destroyed the perfect dark. House lights, lone cars rolling by (doing what at this ungodly hour is a mystery), the sound of a lost airplane hurtling through the sky towards some unseen target – all of these pollute our land. Not always wi